


In No Chronological Order

by Shippaddict



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippaddict/pseuds/Shippaddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks of how itchy his knee is, and how moving would wake up both of his boyfriends. Being Mayuzumi Chihiro was suffering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In No Chronological Order

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I'll start posting non cross posts soon. I saw a meme describing the nature of summaries. I really do like movie trailers. If you have anything to say about this ship in the canon verse tell me about it. I don't hate Haizaki but I don't like him much either. Ten thousand points if anyone can guess who else I ship Nijimura with. I'm going to try make a fic for that in february.

VI.

Sometimes Mayuzumi wonders if it was all worth it. He thinks of the beautiful young woman he was supposed to show off to his parents. Of the woman he was supposed to walk down the aisle as his mother cried, and his father’s puffed out chest when he was finally proud of his son. He thinks of how itchy his knee is, and how moving would wake up both of his boyfriends. Being Mayuzumi Chihiro was suffering.

He wakes up with a dead limb and an unsatisfied itch. Akashi is in the shower; his five in the morning run is disgusting but makes him feel less disgusting. Mayuzumi scratches his knee as he ponders the likely hood of ever being awake at five am intentionally. Nijimura is in the kitchen and if luck is on Mayuzumi’s side – just to change things up a little if for no other reason – then there will be pancakes. He has peeled some of the skin off his knee, but he can feel his fingers.

V.

Nijimura didn’t think once about how disappointed his mother would have been when she found out this wasn’t a phase. And he purposely avoids all thoughts of Mayuzumi when he stays the weekend with his family – a little bruised and dysfunctional but back on familiar soil. His younger siblings ask if it’s that Akashi kid that used to make those big gooey expressions when he wasn’t looking. Or if it was that big delinquent he used to beat up all the time Hai-five or whatever.

“C’mon Shuu! If it is we won’t tell mom, for a small fee.”

He wasn’t exactly dating a prince, or a criminal. He was dating a bland boy, with bland taste in rental movies, who lived off of cup ramen when Nijimura wasn’t around. Mayuzumi liked personal space; he wasn’t too icy or too clingy. He was a change of pace from his last relationship – a short fling in America. Mayuzumi made Nijimura’s stomach do that mortifying summersault thing; which is exactly why he was nobody else’s business. Then his sister found an inarguably incriminating ‘miss your cooking Shuu’ text, followed by an even more incriminating list of other stuff to do when he returned, from a picture of abs listed as MayuMayu. Nijimura spent more money on crepes the next day than he had since middle school. Luckily his frustrations were in part relieved by a bout of ‘I am too stubborn to admit I was intensely lonely’ necking. And some other stuff.

IV.

His first real kiss is by no means epiphanic. He doesn’t hear Akashi moan so much as he feels it. Hot lips against his own, slender fingers scratching at the nape of his neck and a fist curled around his tie, all trembling. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. When Akashi pulls away more breathless than he had been at any practice, Mayuzumi’s hands find themselves in the first years hair.

They kiss for the next half hour. Each gasping pause they use to map out the rest of their partner. Akashi has a freckle on his top lip; another on his eyelid; he has one dimple when he bites his lip. Mayuzumi is sporting an uncomfortable semi when Akashi’s driver interrupts with a text. It’s the kiss ‘good bye’ that gets him. It’s the kiss ‘good bye’ when he thinks to himself that he’d never actually pictured himself bringing a girl home.

III.

Akashi wasn’t sure at first. About Nijimura he meant, not as a captain, or as a mentor, but as an attractive young man. He had nice eyes; that were the colour of coal when they had first met. There was something disconcerting about the way he wanted to drink in the starless, piceous depths. And something even more disconcerting in the hideous clichés that sprung further to mind. He was surprisingly dry mouthed as he watched the young man – because he was as far from boyhood as coffee was from champagne – run. Muscles taut as a bow string, movements more fluid than white water.

When Nijimura rounded on him after practice the weight of those calloused hands on his shoulders made his knees weak.

“You alright Akashi? You feel a little tense.”

He was going to be sick.

II.

Nijimura looked down at Akashi biting his lip as his eyes stayed transfixed on the tv, his head a damp weight on Nijimura’s shoulder. Mayuzumi’s hand was warm against his bare hip, but not warm enough to bother him more than the summer heat already did. He reached an arm up to stretch out his sweaty shoulders and earned a little shushing noise from Akashi on his right. A kiss to his bicep from Mayuzumi on his left. Mayuzumi moved his lips to Nijimura’s cheek, then his neck where he began to suck some of the sweat away. Nijimura gave his best covert glare which was ultimately completely useless. Akashi shushed them again, unperturbed by Nijimura’s muffled grunts. Mayuzumi’s other hand wandered to the waist band of Nijimura’s shorts.

After four unwatchable minutes of whatever weird foreign film Akashi had denied them subtitles for, four minutes of kissing and rutting while Akashi shuffled away from the pair. The film was paused, rewound by exactly two hundred and forty seconds, and it was Nijimura who took the initiative to give Akashi a kiss or two and relocate them all to the bedroom.

I.

Mayuzumi had probably burned dinner. Nijimura, unable to save what had once been rice and stir fry, would scold him. They would order take out – something Indian, Nijimura’s favourite, no doubt to make up for the hard scrubbing the kitchen and pots would need. Akashi wanted to be where they were, bizarre domesticity and all.

Akashi was pulled back to the conversation when Suzuki – a future business partner – began to talk about his fiancé; they had met a grand total of two times but that had never stopped anyone before. He gave the boy his congratulations before the conversation took a swift turn. Being single and grossly wealthy was hard on them all by the sounds of it. Suzuki turned to Akashi, whose input had so far been the occasional nod or raised brow.

“But Seijuurou, where’s your inner man? Don’t you feel even a little empathy for the rest of the stags? Unless you’re hiding a pretty young thing from us…?”

‘I have semen in my digestive system.’ His brain helpfully supplied. The table broke out with laughter as Akashi took a sip of rosé and rolled his eyes. He hoped that no part of his suddenly rather stiff posture said anything that he had been thinking.


End file.
